


Beggars belief.

by PS_Write



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:29:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5819596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PS_Write/pseuds/PS_Write
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanks to Oliver, Connor is no longer a fool.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beggars belief.

“And you said you don’t do boyfriends.”

Connor glanced at Michaela beside him, trying and failing to stop smiling. He remembers that moment quite clearly, remembers fooling himself into believing it. He was good at doing that. Oliver was good at undoing that.

“And now here we are,” she continued, drink in hand. “At a wedding. Your wedding. You’re married!”

“You’re drunk,” Connor replied, laughing and ignoring her protests as he took her drink from her. “It’s late and we have lunch tomorrow. You’re cut off.”

“You’re no fun, y’kn- Oliver! Oliveerr...” Michaela exclaimed as she waved Oliver over from where he stood. He looked over skeptically, glancing between a swaying Michaela and Connor who had his face half covered by his hand.

“Hey...” He started with an amused smile, unsure of what he walked into. He found himself tucked into Connor’s side, an arm around his waist securing him there.

“You’re married! You and Connor! Can you believe it...”

Oliver, looking at Connor now, chuckled lightly. “Y’know what? I actually do,” he replied, matching Connor’s wide smile. “Y’know what else I know? You, Michaela Pratt, are drunk and will no doubt be hungover.”

“I think it’s bed time,” piped Connor, squeezing Oliver’s side as he did.

“Yeah. Yeah, I agree. You should probably go to bed. Sleep it off.”

“Nobody likes a hangover.”

“That’s true.”

"I know what you’re up to,” Michaela butted in and ignored their smirks. “But... I’m n-not gonna a’gue with you guys. Because I’ve a nice bed waiting for me.”

“You should go check it out,” Connor said, trying to end the conversation. He really wanted to check out his and Oliver’s.

“Hmm, you really should.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m goin’. Just try keep the noise down.”

“We promise nothing,” Connor replied, head coming to rest on Oliver’s shoulder as Michaela managed to head off to find and elevator.

They soon found themselves in one and staring at the doors in front of them, standing shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand. Connor keeps stealing glances to his right where Oliver’s stood and can’t stop the love-struck grin that finds itself breaking out. He doesn’t want to. Oliver turns and matches Connor’s features, both floating on the sheer love for the other (definitely not the champagne). He watches as Connor lifts his hand to his mouth and places a kiss to the band resting on Oliver’s finger. Oliver’s face turns to one of wanton lust, his need for Connor cleary etched on his face. For his husband. They lock eyes, their lips meeting a split second later. It’s feather light, delicate in touch, and betrays their thoughts. Connor’s right hand comes to wrap around Oliver’s neck and pulls him closer, his other hand grasping Oliver’s and coming to rest on his chest by his heart. Oliver willingly allows himself to be taken, never more happy than to be in the moment. Connor flicks his tongue, asking and meeting no resistance, and tongues touch, moans escape. Oliver moves his free hand to tug Connor's dress shirt up by his hip, needing to feel familiar skin. His movement pulls a moan from Connor and he pushes into the touch. They’re pulled from their kiss at the ping of the elevator announcing their arrival at their floor.

Pulling away with a groan, Connor leads Oliver to their room for the night. They just make it to the door before any idea of slow and steady evaded them, both shoving the other through their hotel door. Oliver gripped Connor's hips hard, pulling him close until they were flush together. The air thickened, any sense of decorum gone through the floor length hotel window. Teeth clashed, lips bit, nails scratching, marking. Tailored suit jackets find the floor, quickly followed by their dress shirts. Hands latch on to the first available piece of skin they can find. The soft bump of cool steel against Connor's neck pulls him from his thoughts, arching into the touch.

"Ollie," he moans, breathy. Oliver takes advantage of Connor's bare neck, nipping and sucking his way from his mouth until his lips latched onto his throat. He sucks hard and nips at the soft skin, revelling in the gasp he pulls from Connor. Connor finds his hand tangled in Oliver's hair, holding him for fear he'd stop. Oliver continues, slowly kissing his way down Connor's body. He makes it to Connor's chest, lingering at his nipples and biting. The reaction is instant, hips jutting up in response. Oliver continues, pulling and swirling at the swollen buds, delighting in the sounds his husband makes. Connor increases his pressure on the top of Oliver's head, clearing telling him to move on. Oliver grins, kissing down the other's stomach, until he finds himself face to face with Connor's waist.

"Someone's excited, huh?" he says, running his fingers over the clear outline of Connor's hard cock. Connor can't help but moan at the feeling. Oliver repeats his actions, watching his other half through hooded lids. He keeps the gaze as he flicks open the button and pulls the zipper down. Connor's breathing picks up, his body heating with expectation. In one swift motion, his pants and boxers are pooled below him. The air hits his wet cock, making him shiver. Oliver licks his lips, failing to hold back a moan as he drops a hand to rub himself through his pants. Connor brings his other hand to meet the other in Oliver's hair and tugs lightly.

"Someone's excited, huh?" Connor smirks. Oliver smiles sweetly, head tilted, and swipes his tongue over Connor's head, rewarded with gasps and moans. He repeats the motion, mindful of Connor's canting hips as he does so. He takes the tip and swirls his tongue around it.

"God..." Connor moans, thrusting into the heat of Oliver's mouth. He tries to hold back, tries to keep his grip lose on Oliver's hair, tries to control himself. But any semblance of control slips away as Oliver takes him fully in his mouth, eyes closed and throat relaxed. Connor gasps, jaw open, toes curled. And then Oliver does it again. And again. Again. Connor can't breathe, can't control his thrusts, can't help but let his head fall back and grip Oliver's hair for dear life. Oliver lets him, loves the feel of it, loves knowing he's the reason for the prayers that find themselves leaving Connor's mouth. His left hand grips Connor's right thigh, trailing fingertips along the outside and reaching around the grab a handful of ass. He squeezes what he can grab, and holds his head still as he rubs traces Connor's hole. Connor stills, back straightening at Oliver's move. He reminds himself to breathe, shutting his eyes as Oliver pushes just the tip of his finger in him. That's what does it.

"Bed. Now." Oliver doesn't wait around or tease, bringing himself up on less steady legs as Connor kicks of his pants. He going to comment, a smart-ass response, but can't find it in him once Connor's eyes meet his. Lips meet in a desperate move to feel, neither enjoying the seconds of cold separation. The kiss is harsh and needy, and neither give a damn. Connor, coming to himself again, guides Oliver to the obnoxiously big bed. Its white sheets are covered in red rose petals and champagne on ice sits next to it on the locker. It's all so sickeningly sweet and Connor can't find it in him to care. Not when he's got his arms full of Oliver. Oliver suddenly finds himself pushed onto the bed, bouncing slightly. He pulls himself to rest back on his elbows and smiles. Connor takes him in, eyes lingering at the straining muscles of his arms, biting his lip as he out-right stares at Oliver's body.

"Like what ya see?" Oliver whispers.

"Damn right," comes Connor's reply, chuckling at the faint blush that creeps onto Oliver's cheeks. "Although... I find you're still wearing far too many clothes," he finished, waving a hand between them toward Oliver's suit pants. "Is that right?" Oliver returned. He matches Connor gaze as he shifts his weight to the right, his left hand trailing across his chest and arching into his own touch. Connor follows his movement, eyes catching the shine on his wedding band as he does so, his heart racing at the sight. His resolve breaks as Oliver unzips and pulls both pants and boxers off him, awkwardly shedding them. He starts slightly as Connor when he finds his lap full off Connor, trapped by strong legs on either side of his own. The kiss he finds himself in is searing and hot, arching as hands grab and glide across his skin. Connor nips and sucks at the bare skin available, marking and claiming. He sucks hard and nips at the soft skin, revelling in the gasp he pulls the man below him. Hands tangle in hair, noses painfully pressed into the other. Connor's hand finds its way between their bodies, taking hold of Oliver, hot and heavy. The soft pull of skin has Oliver panting, wordlessly begging for more. Connor gives, lives for the sounds Oliver makes. Oliver sits up, holding onto Connor to keep him in place. He manages to flip them, Connor moving up the head of the bed. He holds a hand out for Oliver who readily takes it, crawling up to meet the other man.

“I need you.” Oliver reaches toward the travel bag he'd placed on the bedside locker earlier in the day and pulls out a bottle of lube. He coats his fingers generously, more than familiar with what Connor needs. Connor opens himself, spread for Oliver who happily moves to sit between his thighs. He wastes no time, both waiting to get to this point all day. Connor's body jolts slightly as he feels a chilled digit rubbing right against his hole, sighing happily at what's to come. He watches Oliver as he works one finger in, meeting little to no resistance. Oliver, ever caring, refuses to rush, refuses to entertain the possibility of hurting Connor even though they've done this countless times. Connor's chest tightens at the thought behind it. After one finger is worked in, another follows, accompanied with a moan at the slight pressure. He rolls himself up against the other man.

"More, Ollie. Please," Connor breathes out, meeting Oliver in a lazy kiss as he does. Oliver slips a third finger in, capturing the resulting gasp with a bite to Connor's lips.

"You're so good," Oliver praises, dropping kisses along Connor's neck and shoulders. "So good for me."

Connor responds by meeting Oliver's movements with thrusts, body humming with pleasure. They linger a moment before Connor grips at Oliver’s arm.

"I need you. Nee-need to feel you," Connor's plea comes out in a whine as Oliver hits the spot he been looking for.

He pulls away, slowly withdrawing from Connor. Oliver picks the bottle of lube from its spot on the bed, aware of Connor's watch eyes and unsure of what to do. Swallowing the trepidation he feels, Oliver hesitates before doubling back for a condom and moving back to settle between Connor’s legs, trying to rush on. Connor reaches for him, cupping his face between both hands and forcing Oliver to look at him. His thumb runs reassuringly across Oliver's cheek.

"I love you," the near whisper pulls Oliver back to the present. Their lips meet, light in touch. Connor wraps himself around Oliver, bringing them flush together. "I love you so fucking much."

Oliver buries a sigh into Connor's neck before lifting his head up to rest against his forehead. "I love you too."

Connor takes the condom from Oliver, unwrapping and rolling it onto Oliver, the lube following soon after. Oliver braces Connor’s legs up against his chest and aligns himself. Eyes lock, shunning everything around them. Connor briefly tenses once Oliver begins working his way in, but the moment passes as quick as it came. Oliver takes his time, revelling in the feel. Sweat drips from them both, hair mussed. Connor rolls himself up against the other man, need coursing through him. Gripping the others hips, he attempts to make him move. It results in a chuckle, but Oliver takes the hint and starts to move. Oliver props Connor’s legs up against his chest and thrusts, Connor’s entire body buzzing. Oliver’s hand drops down to Connor’s cock, Connor moaning at the deft hands working him over. He grips Oliver’s hips, pulling him closer, matching up their movements. Oliver's thrusts come faster, Connor's pulse matching the pace. Oliver's head is bowed and comes to rest on Connor's forehead, eyes fluttering as the body below him begins to tense. Oliver picks up the speed of his thrusts, the emotion of the day drawing them both towards completion. They're both gasping and moaning, words failing to register with with either of them. Oliver's hand match the pace of his hips, Connor's nails digging into the soft flesh of Oliver's thigh in response. Thrusts soon become sloppy, both feeling their resolve slipping as they try to hold on.

"Ollie..." Connor grounds out, leveling his gaze with Oliver's. Oliver nods, heart pounding. Low groans became loud moans until finally Oliver feels Connor stiffen and breathing still, spilling over his hand and onto himself as his orgasm rocks through him.

"C-Con..." Oliver's half plea came as he did, hips canting as he crushed his lips to Connor's.

Neither moved, time seeming to be relevant. Sweat clung them, mess sticking to them, both spent. Connor's left hand found its ways to comb its way through Oliver messy hair, his other fingering the ring on Oliver's left hand. He smiled to himself, relishing in the weight of the man on top of him, content in not needing to fool himself that Oliver was his. 


End file.
